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lilyrizzy · 5 months

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continuation and happy ending for this break up fic. i fixed it! (and maybe did a sloppy job of it oops) BUT I hope this brings someone, somewhere joy.

When Daniel gets to the door of his apartment, there is a tall, cardboard box propped up against his door. He doesn’t know when it was delivered because he’s spent the last few nights since being back in Monaco bouncing between Scotty’s place and Blake’s, drinking more and sleeping less than he should.

It’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place; stuck in the minor injuries unit, bleeding and embarrassed, waiting for Max to come and rescue him. Because even now, six fucking months later, he still hasn’t changed his emergency contact information back to Blake.

Sighing, Daniel balances the box in one hand and fumbles with his keys in the other to get his front door open. Once inside he dumps the box onto the counter and pours himself a glass of water. Takes a sip, sets the glass back down, and feels lost.

The truth is, he doesn’t know what was worse. That he hadn’t expected Max to show up, or that he did, and even though Daniel saw him nearly every weekend still, like this it was- Different. Max with his mussed up hair like he’d rolled straight out of bed to come to the hospital for Daniel, reminding him of everything he didn’t want to remember.

Like how their kind of falling apart happened slowly, so slowly that the track limits crept up on them, and by the time Daniel tried to hit the break they were already in the wall. Small disagreements built on top of months of half-conversations, until resolution stopped being the goal. Instead, it was to get through a week, a day, a morning without cracking whatever tentative peace they’d found the last time.

Shaking his head is a bad idea considering he might have a concussion, but Daniel can’t stop himself from doing it. As though his brain is an etch-a-sketch from which the fights and the furious words he spat at Max regularly can be erased.

He groans out loud, tipping the rest of the water down the sink before turning his attention back to the parcel. Ripping it open gives his shaking hands something to do, gives his nail bed a rest from his anxious chewing.

A sweet smell hits him first, before his eyes can make sense of what he’s seeing, and-

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a bouquet of tulips and a small, hand-drawn card.

To brighten your day, Uncle Daniel, the note attached said, in Isaac’s messy scrawl, but he bet the wobbly hearts underneath were all Izzy. The words all Michelle.

It’s enough to put the smile back on his face for just a moment, even as his stomach churns with the same homesick feeling he’s been unable to shake since he left his and Max’s apartment. Placing the card down, he takes one of the petals between his thumb and finger, feeling the waxy smoothness against his skin.

They’re a bigger bouquet than the tulips he’d brought for Max one time, back when their fights could be so easily fixed. Daniel can still remember the pleased flush that warmed Max’s cheeks as he’d looked between Daniel’s face and the flowers, eyes wide like this was the most romantic thing someone had ever done for him.

At the time, it had made Daniel proud of himself. Now, it just makes him sad. The idea that crappy, half-wilting tulips brought from a supermarket in Monaco could mean so much when Max deserved the world.

But this had been the way things always went. Daniel would show up with a poker chip from Vegas, a guitar pick from LA, a seashell from Perth, and Max would beam at him like he was the sun for bringing him a gift. Or just- maybe just because Daniel showed up at all.

I don’t understand, Daniel, why nothing with you is ever enough. Max had always thrown in his face whenever Daniel picked a fight as a plea for words, for attention, for affection. I am here, aren’t I? The more than you was always unspoken, but still deafening.

I’m always going to be here.

And he still was, living in their apartment that Daniel moved out of months ago. Still sending Daniel’s dad a bottle of wine on his birthday, still cuddling Izzy when he saw her at the grand prix last weekend. Still turning up to hospital waiting rooms for Daniel at four in the morning.

Why do I feel like I have to be a fucking games console to get the tiniest bit of interest from you, Daniel had spat at Max, another evening he’d come home to find Max engrossed in the sim. How am I supposed to trust that you love me when you hardly ever fucking say it?

For not the first time, Daniel wonders if maybe Max had been trying to all along, just not with words.

“Fuck, Maxy,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck sake.”

Rubbing his eyes, he paces to the window, wanting to press his throbbing head against the cool glass. He should go to bed, should crawl beneath the covers and sleep until he wakes up feeling strong enough to try forgetting Max all over again.

Needs to forget his worried eyes scanning over Daniel’s body as though trying to catalog where he might need fixing, the soft way he’d said Daniel’s name under the harsh glare of the hospital lights. His stupid fucking car, flashy even for the streets of Monaco, and far too fast at the same time, that-

That is still parked beneath Daniel’s building on the street below.

His eyes catch on it as they slit open against the rising sun, the sparkle of the paintwork against the tarmac. Daniel glances at the clock above his oven. He’s been home an entire fifteen minutes, and still Max hasn’t moved. If he’s not careful he’ll get a parking ticket.

Some things are worth it, he’d told Daniel when he’d warned him of the same thing, a million years ago now, picking Daniel up from the airport and lingering too long in the ‘kiss and fly’ lane.

In another life.

The life Daniel wants more than he can remember the reasons he walked out of it.

“Max,” Daniel finds himself calling out stupidly, even though it’s obvious Max can’t hear. He opens the balcony door, stepping out onto it and calling it louder. “Max!”

Though the traffic on the street below is quiet, almost non existent at this hour, Daniel’s shouts still don’t seem to carry far enough. There’s no sign Max has heard, no opening of a car door, no emergence of his blonde head from the drivers seat.

Daniel needs to do more, he needs-

Stepping back into the apartment, his eyes search his kitchen frantically until his hands grab the flowers on instinct. For a moment, he considers walking down the stairs and handing them to Max, an offering, an apology, a chance, but-

Daniel can’t let him drive away. He can’t risk running down the stairs only to find him gone when he reaches the pavement and steps back out into the Monaco sunrise. This moment is his tenth of a second, small but capable of making all the difference as long as he doesn’t take his foot off the pedal.

A split second of madness passes, and he finds himself back on the balcony pulling one of the stems loose from the bouquet. Before he’s thought about it anymore, he’s watching it hurtle off the edge towards Max’s car. It misses, landing just to the side by his front left tyre, Daniel isn’t giving up.

Stem by stem, he pulls the flowers loose, throwing them down onto Max’s car. His aim gets better, and soon nearly each one is landing on his bonnet or his windshield. Their petals make a soft sound as they hit the shiny bodywork of the car. Sunshine yellow against Ferarri red.

Finally, the car door opens and Daniel waits, arm suspended backwards in midair, still clutching a fistful of stems.

“Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?” Max shouts eventually, scrambling from the car looking pissed.

He covers his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the growing daylight, face screwed up as he squints up at Daniel. His expression should be a reminder of so many bad memories, and it is, but it’s also something Daniel doesn’t want to miss anymore.

“Maxy!” He shouts, letting the rest of the flowers drop to the floor in favour of leaning over the balcony. His heart is pounding so hard against his rib cage that he’s surprised the railing beneath him isn’t vibrating with it. “Can you- I love you. Can you come upstairs?”

For a moment, Max’s face just melts into blankness. The moment stretches, long enough that Daniel’s brain starts scanning for a joke to make, to backtrack, to just get out, but then-

Max smiles. A different kind of sunshine, but still so fucking bright.

“I love you too,” he calls up, his voice more than a little croaky. “I think- I think it would be better if I told you this more, before, but- But also I think it would be better if you came home.”

Daniel’s trainers slap quickly against every other step on the way back down the stairs.

#for once i stuck to my word and wrote the happy ending!#and it was bloody hard lol so #sorry if it sucks!#fic #max/daniel #also ignore delivery logistics that dont make sens plsss lol

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xzaddyzanakinx · 6 months

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Okay so I have a request 😭 at some point could you PLEASSEEEE make a series where it’s Anakin x reader with bipolar? I’m pretty sure Anakin already suffers from borderline but I personally suffer from bipolar and 1. Could be such good angst , 2. Anakin could literally be insane and the reader would probably want to be around him bc bipolar sometimes craves danger, and 3. I feel like it would be really nice to see Anakin comfort a bipolar reader during a really bad episode where they’re like hysterical and then manic

(I’m so sorry this was so long)

Yes, Anakin has been diagnosed with BPD by many therapists!

That’s part of the reason I love him so much. I also have BPD and I really resonate with him. Because I get it you know? He’s obsessive, he will do ANYTHING for his Favorite Person.

He’d even spill blood.

The way it would pain him so deeply to see his FP in such anguish… he’ll punch a wall and cry about it later but right then he’ll be emotionless, he’d put on the best mask of comfort he could so he could soak up all your pain and take it away.

I got carried away. Oops. Warnings: inner monologue of: Self pity, gaslighting, verbal abuse, depression, self deprecation, co-dependency, death/suicide

He’d be so strong and solid for you because you need him, but internally he’d be shattered. What if he caused your episode? What if you leave him some day when you’re manic and feral for change no matter what the consequences are? What if you never loved him in the first place and he made it all up and somehow you’ve just went along with it this whole time? What if he doesn’t actually love you and he’s just been using you because you’re vulnerable and you make him feel needed and important?

Isn’t he just some attention hungry monster? He did this to you didn’t he? He triggered this episode for the simple fact that you would be in pain, you would be dependent, you would be reliant, you would see that there is no way you could leave him because he’s the only one who can handle you. You’ll see that won’t you?

God he’s just insane isn’t he? What a sick fuck. Treating you this way for personal gain. To hell with the fact that sometimes a Bipolar episode just sneaks up on you without a reason at all. Anakin knows he did this to you. Even if he didn’t… he’s still a horrible piece of shit because he can’t fix it for you.

Or even worse: what if he’s being used? What if you are playing him and he’s been too blind with infatuation to see it? That’s what’s happening isn’t it? You’ve fucking taken advantage of his kindness, his selflessness, his undying and unconventional love for you. You’re faking it.

When you snap out of this ‘episode’ he’ll lay into you about your true intentions with him. He’d call you out on your selfishness.

He’s better than this. He deserves more than this, can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull? How could you be so stupid? How could you be so dense? Did you truly believe he actually cared about you? No, he just felt sorry for you.

He felt so fucking sorry for you. Pathetic little clingy thing. He’s given and given and given to you and you’ve been nothing but ungrateful. You didn’t even try to get better for him. You rejected his help and this is the last fucking straw. He’s given you every chance, he’s given you everything.

Oh god he’s given you his entire soul. He’s laid his entire being out onto a platter for you to pick apart and terrorize but you’ve done… the opposite. You’ve coddled him when he didn’t deserve it. You made him happy when the world around him was devoid of anything but insufferable, heavy, suffocating despair. You were the light at the end of the long, cold tunnel.

And he’d almost extinguished you.

You were the key to every emotion he couldn’t attain on his own. You kept his happiness, his love, his joy, his contentment, his comfort, his calm.

Without you he’d be nothing.

You should leave. You should run. You should leave.

You should change your name and flee the country because he would stop at nothing to prove himself to you again.

He needs you. You are the air he breathes and the blood in his veins. You are perfect, pure, angelic.

You are heaven on earth and he is a demon walking through the flesh world.

You deserved better. You needed better. You know you deserve better.

But you won’t leave him because you are too kind and loving, you are so sweet and caring. You won’t ever stop. You won’t let him hide. You won’t let him believe he is unloved. You won’t allow him to crawl into himself and go mute. You won’t allow him to let his mind go blank and his flesh move about on autopilot. You won’t allow him to convince himself that he is unworthy.

You won’t give up on him.

And that’s why he has to leave. Permanently. That’s the only way you’ll ever be truly happy and free. He won’t be there to feel the all consuming sorrow every fucking day. He won’t be there to make you watch him drown, suffer as he claws at the surface of the water. So fucking close to air and unable to reach it. So, when he gives up, he won’t drag you down and force you to wallow at the bottom of the lake of despair with him. He won’t suction the life out of you anymore.

He’s selfishly sponged up every drop of life you’ve given him and he knows you must be exhausted from the never ending battle of trying to make him feel human.

It’s better this way. Maybe you’ll meet in the next life and things will be different. Or maybe your soul will recognize his and urge you to escape as quickly as possible. Either way, in this life, Anakin is setting you free.

Because if you love something, you should let it go.

You should let him go.

Don’t cry for him when you find him, feel the sweet relief of all your pain having died with him.

After all, he did this for you.

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin x you #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin

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tacticaldiary · 1 year

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Hello, saw that ur reqs r open and was wondering if i could ask for some Gaz fluff onseshot, pleasseee

(If u don't want to then ignore this, please)

Welcome Home, Love

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

"Kyle." She chokes out, holding him just as tightly. Air does not deserve an inch of space between them. "Kyle." It's all she can seem to say, a mantra of his name over and over again caught in sobs of relief.

"I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." The shake of his voice is not unnoticed by her, it only makes her clutch onto him all the more desperately.

Masterlist

Dawn breaks with a warmth that fills the room with a gentle light.

She doesn't get up right away, basks in the rays that spill over the bed from beyond the linen curtains. Perhaps if she stayed still enough, the warmth would seep into her being, filling the empty, cold space that's been eating away at her for the past two months.

How long had it been since she'd woken up warm? Content?

Exhaling slowly at the ringing of her alarm a couple minutes later, she drags herself upright to start her day. As much as she wanted to let the absence of chocolate eyes and playful smiles drag her into a spiral of sadness, it wouldn't do much good for anyone.

She thumbs through the clothes hanging in the closet she shares with her boyfriend. Running her fingers over the soft cotton of one of his shirts, she slips it off of the hanger and over her finger, immediately settling into the familiar, lingering scent of Gaz.

If she pulls the collar up to her nose and takes a deep, calming breath...well, that between her and the creaking of the closet door shutting.

She missed him so much it hurt. It had always been like this, him leaving for days, weeks, months at worst, and her waiting for him, hoping and praying he'd come back to her in one piece. He always did, as bright and eager as ever, and that in itself was enough to harden her resolve to try.

It was hard. But the burst of joy he brought into her life, the intensity of their love was enough to make her satisfied with the time she did have with him.

She still remembers the evidence of it.

The kiss he had pulled her into when she'd driven them both to see him off on his latest mission plays over and over again in her mind.

She had blinked tears away as he crowded her gently against the passenger seat door. A combat calloused hand cradled her face, brushed a stray tear away. "None of that, love." He'd whispered with a smile.

"You better come back to me, Kyle." She'd choked out, clutching onto the front of his vest with a white-knuckled grip.

"Always." The utter confidence and devotion the promise was whispered in miraculously settles her frayed nerves.

He'd pulled her in by the waist then, flush against him, kissed her with such a fierce sort of emotion it had stolen her breath away. Not even the snicker and wolf whistle Soap had let out had pulled him away. Gaz only released her when he was good and ready to let go.

That was two months ago.

Not being able to contact him while he was deployed made everything so much worse. It was for his own safety, she knows that good and well but it was difficult not to know if he was alright or not nonetheless.

Before her mind can succumb to picturing the worst-case scenario, she shakes herself out of it.

He'd promised he'd come back to her.

That was enough, she convinces herself. It was enough.

Distracting herself, she starts making a mental list of all she has to get done today. A trip to the grocery store, definitely. There were no eggs in the fridge left, and the bread had gone too stale to make any toast.

Deciding to just grab breakfast on the way, she makes herself presentable and grabs her shoes, while searching her purse for her keys. The coffee shop down the corner did a mean breakfast sandwich, and the grocery store wasn't too far from there either.

She pulls the door open and realises that she's probably still dreaming.

Because Gaz stands there. Right there. Right in front of her.

A tired face, frozen with surprise halfway through the motion of going to unlock the door from the outside. A duffel back sits on the porch next to him, and he's still in his uniform minus all the gear.

The crickets and the birds go silent as their eyes lock.

Her name leaves his lips, a breathless, relieved sound.

And everything snaps into place.

"...Kyle?" She clumsily takes a step back, eyes wide as she takes him in. He's...he was here. He was here.

He came back to her.

Gaz comes to himself quicker than she does, pushes himself into their home and picks her up into a bone crushing hug. He hikes her up effortlessly until she wraps her legs around him to steady herself. "I'm home, love." He breathes into her neck, face pressed tightly into her shoulder.

"I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." The shake of his voice is not unnoticed by her, it only makes her clutch onto him all the more desperately.

"Missed you."

"Not as much as I did." His lips say into her skin. He pulls away an inch to look her in the eyes, drinking her in like a man starved. With each pass of his eyes, Gaz settles into himself as if the sight of her there, present and real quells any unrest he's carried in his heart all these days.

Neither of them know who moves first, but they pull each other into a kiss almost as full of emotion as the last time. It's desperation, worry, pure and utter relief that they exchange with each other within a moment. Her hands slide up to his shoulders, the salty taste of her tears mingling with everything that's so undeniably him.

They pull away just enough to breathe each other's air, two magnets snapping together after being held apart for too long.

Gently, he shuts the door behind him with a kick.

"Your duffle's still out there." She whispers as he sets her down on the kitchen counter, settling between her legs.

"That's the last thing I give a damn about." He answers, with a low chuckle.

"And the first?"

This. She missed this so much, her heart swells and aches at having it back.

The easy back and forth. The teasing, the playful nudges, and banter. Him. His words, his smile, his hands, his touch. Everything she craves and wants and needs right in front of her again after so long, she doesn't think she can bear to part from it anytime soon.

Gaz is in no hurry to untangle himself from her either, not with the way he lessens the space between them whenever he can as if each millimetre of distance will form into another moment he's lost with her.

"Shall I show you?" He rumbles deep in his chest, tilting his head down to press their foreheads together affectionately. His gaze flickers down her body and a grin grows on his lips. "Is that my shirt?" He toys with the hem of it with his fingers, sliding a hand under the fabric to touch her bare waist. She shivers at the touch, grounding and needed.

"I said I missed you." She breathes out a laugh. "It...helps. Makes the house feel less lonely."

It feels wrong to admit it to him when she knows there's nothing he can do but feel guilty about it. Gaz loves his job, and she would never ask him to choose between it or her. That's cruel, and if he can have both at the expense of a few weeks of her being lonely...well, that's a sacrifice she'll happily make.

His lips quirk downwards, eyes softening with the slight guilt she'd expected to see.

"I'm sorry, love." He mumbles. "Must be rough, coming home to an empty place."

She nods slowly. Denying it would do nobody good. There were no lies between them, no chance of miscommunication when they laid themselves bare like this.

Because he's right. It was rough. She has friends and family that live in the area and although she sees them regularly and loves them, it's...it's not the same. Gaz fills a space in her heart that nobody else can click into. It's never the same, so try she might fit a square peg in a circular hole, but it'll never patch up the wound completely right.

And she's okay with it.

Because he always comes back to her.

"I can imagine it's tougher being shot at, Sergeant." She teases instead, laughing when he groans and drops his head to her shoulder.

"Don't start with that." He complains. "I'm not anyone's Sergeant here, yeah? I'm yours." He lifts his head, a spark of something so deeply enamoured she might see the evidence etched into his soul.

This was good for him, too. It was good for him to have a piece of himself untouched by the blood he spilled for a living, a part of him that doesn't heed orders and know how to clear buildings and detonate explosives.

Here, he was Kyle.

The man that woke her up with touches soft enough to make her giggle at how they tickled. The man that kissed her every day like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance. The man who knew her like the back of his hand, knew what she liked, knew her lunch order, how she liked her coffee, which flowers she adored.

He's her other half, in presence and in absence.

"Just yours." He says again.

And she's the one who pulls him in this time, a hand cupping the back of his neck, slipping into his hair when he leans into her like she wants.

She mutters her love to him through sparse breaths of air when she gets the chance, and Kyle does not hesitate when he says them right back to her.

Even the sun could not compare to how his love, his mere presence, warms her inside and out.

Home.

He was home.

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(29/08/2023)

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sequinsmile-x · 2 months

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omg hiii !!

I don’t know if you’re taking request but could/ did you do a fic where emily gives birth and her and the baby have complications at the same time, and Aaron is obviously freaked, just angst and fluff!!! I love your writing so much!!

hiii bestie <3

this is what this prompt turned into as I was writing it, I hope you like it <3

-x-

Encumbrance

Of all the things she'd been worried about, this hadn't been one of them.

-x-

words: 3.4k

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy complication, brief mentions of blood

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Oh god that’s gross,” Emily grimaces, looking at the small bottle in her hands with disdain, “It’s like drinking fucking syrup.”

Aaron smiles and takes the empty bottle from her, “Better or worse than the other one you had?”

“Better,” she says decisively, her arms crossed over the top of her bump as she watches him dump the bottle in the recycling can before he joins her on the bench again, his arm automatically looping around her shoulders, “This one vaguely tasted like fruit punch,” she says, a smile flicking across her face when she feels her baby, her son, kick, the movement chasing away the anxiety that had been sitting in her chest all morning, “The other one tasted like a warm soda that had been left in a car for three days.”

When she first found out she was pregnant, the joy and happiness of finally looking at a positive test had quickly faded into anxiety, all of the things that could possibly go wrong overwhelming her as she stood in her ensuite with Aaron by her side. Of all the things she’d worried about this hadn’t been one of them, hadn’t crossed her mind for any other reason than just being one of the many tests she needed throughout her pregnancy.

It was only when she’d had the initial test just a few days ago, the taste of the overly sweet glucose drink still lingering, when she knew something was wrong. It was one of those rare moments when she hated her job and how good she was at it, hated that she knew her results weren’t good just from the look on her doctor’s face, how her body language had changed. A slight stiffness to her shoulders, a fake edge to her smile that gave her away before she told them that she had some concerns.

Aaron kept trying to reassure her that everything would be fine and that they’d be okay no matter what. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty. It hadn’t stopped her from convincing herself over the last few days that she’d done something wrong, that her body wasn’t doing what it should be to keep her baby safe. Each joke she’d made about their son taking after Aaron when they were told at every scan that he was measuring on the larger side for his gestation, something she now knew was a sign of gestational diabetes, would roll around her head when she couldn’t sleep, catching on the edges of her consciousness as she ran her hand over her bump. She’d lay there for hours, apologising to her little boy for not realising something was going on, her tears slipping down onto her pillow as she desperately tried to not wake up her husband.

“When we’re all done here I’ll take you two for lunch,” Aaron says, placing his hand over hers on her stomach, “You deserve it.”

She hums and stamps a kiss against his lips, “You’re the best,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, “I can’t believe I have to just sit here and ‘relax’,” she spits out the word like it’s poison, rolling her eyes, “As if I can relax whilst I’m waiting to find out if I’ve got fucking diabetes.”

Aaron squeezes her hand, linking their fingers together over their son, “Sweetheart-”

“I know,” she sighs, cutting him off, “I know I need to relax,” she repeats, the same disgust from just seconds ago sewn into the world, “But it’s hard.”

He kisses her forehead, “I know,” he says, “And that’s not what I was going to say,” he smiles when she looks at him, the same crooked smile she hopes her son will inherit, that it’s something he’ll share with his father and older brother. She knows she’ll be screwed if he does, she could never say no to that smile, but she doesn’t care, “I was going to give you options on how you want to distract yourself.”

She can’t help but smile at him, the first real smile to pass across her face since they’d left the house that morning, “You brought options?”

He nods and unwraps himself from around her, reaching for his briefcase next to him, “I’ve got your favourite book,” he says, pulling out her beaten-up copy of Slaughterhouse Five, “a number of magazines that Garcia assured me are suitably trashy,” he pulls them out too, and there’s something about seeing him hold them, his fingers half covering headlines about celebrities she knows he couldn’t name, that makes her smile. The image of him standing there in the store, his hands on his hips as he picked them out, eases some of the tension in her chest, “Or, I have some files in here about our current case.”

They were supposed to be away on a case with the rest of the team. As soon as they found out she needed the second test Aaron had spoken to Strauss, saying in no uncertain terms that he needed to stay behind with Emily, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Emily told him it was fine, that she’d be fine, but he’d outright refused to leave with the others, putting Derek in charge in the field whilst he managed everything from Quantico. It was something she was grateful for now they were here. She could do hard things by herself, she’d done it time and time again, but she didn’t want to anymore. Not when she had someone who she loved and who loved her back by her side.

She never knew how he did it. How he made her fall in love with him more and more each day just by being him, by loving her and their children in a way she once thought was the stuff of books and movies she pretended to hate.

“Let’s go with the case,” she says quietly, taking the file from him so he can pack the book and the magazines away.

He raises an eyebrow at her, “Are you sure?”

She nods, and he places his briefcase back down. “I’m sure. It will make me feel useful.”

They sit huddled together as time moves like syrup, slow and thick around them as Emily does her best to let their work distract her. She catches other patients in the waiting room throwing them concerned looks when they pick up the odd bit of their hushed conversation as they do their part to help build a profile of the person they were after.

Aaron holds her hand when she gets her blood taken again, his support emotional more than physical, both of them highly aware she’d been through worse than a blood test, and then they get back to work. She sinks into it, into his comfort and her love for their life and she almost forgets where they are and why they are there.

When the doctor calls her name she feels her shoulders tighten. She looks up, and she knows the result the moment she looks at the doctor's face.

She knows Aaron does too the moment his grip on her hand tightens.

___

It wasn’t getting any easier.

She hoped in vain that it would. That she’d get used to testing her blood sugars several times a day, that she’d get used to the stricter diet she was on and the frequent doctor's visits, but she hadn’t. The weight of her glucose monitor in her purse, the slightly bruised feeling in the tips of her fingers from where she was testing her levels, the way Aaron would look at her were all reminders of what was happening. Of how her body was failing her son.

The only upside she’d found in it was that they got to see the baby more often and every time she saw her son’s profile or his sweet face on the grainy screen, it eased some of the guilt that tainted everything else, undid some of the chokehold that it had on her. Appointments were always a reminder of Aaron’s struggle in this too, his hand tight around hers at every appointment, his relief palpable whenever they were told both she and the baby were fine. She knew he hated that he couldn’t make it better for her, that he couldn’t take away what was happening.

He was helping in whatever way he could - including making sure she followed the doctor’s advice about healthy eating to the letter. The morning after they found out about her diagnosis a recipe book for diabetics had arrived and when she asked him about it he’d shyly admitted he bought it as soon as they got home from seeing the doctor. It was sweet, he was sweet. And loving and everything she never thought she’d have, but he was driving her insane. She knew he meant well, that he was trying to look after her and their little boy, but she hated that she had even less control over her body now, that it was even less hers than it would have been in a less high-risk pregnancy.

All of her cravings were for candy. It was like a cruel joke from her brain that made her furious to the point of tears at times, her body screaming at her to eat the peanut butter cups she knew were in the back of the pantry, her mind refusing to switch off as she tried to think of anything else. Every now and again she’d wait until Aaron was asleep and she’d sneak out of bed and go downstairs to eat just something sweet that would satisfy her cravings so she could switch off enough to sleep.

On cases, it was slightly easier, although she knew she was close to not being able to go away on them anymore, her self-imposed deadline of 30 weeks just two weeks away. They were flying home from a case, a long flight stretched out ahead of them, and she was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed after several nights on a lumpy mattress.

She sighs as she checks the time, pulling her glucose tester towards her from where she’d placed it on the table on the jet. She ignores how Spencer and Derek briefly pause their conversation, their eyes flicking towards her before continuing as if they hadn’t stopped. She looks at Aaron, who is sitting next to her and he winks at her, his smile reassuring in a way that never fails to calm her down.

Emily pricks her finger and shakes her hand to get rid of the sting, no more used to it now than she was when she started doing this a month ago. She presses the pad of her forefinger to the test strip and then her tongue, grimacing at the tang of copper that follows, her focus on the small monitor in front of her as the result loads. She sighs in relief when it’s normal, the guilt she’d felt for the last hour for sneaking half a peanut butter cup behind her husband's back disappearing, and she sinks back into her seat.

“It’s okay?” Aaron asks, a familiar flicker of concern in his eyes and she nods, slipping the monitor back into its holder.

“It’s okay,” she replies, placing her hand over his on the table and linking their fingers together, “I’ll be glad when he’s here and I don’t have to do this several times a day.”

Spencer pipes up from across the table, clearly speaking before he thinks, the slightly wild look in his eyes he sometimes had when reciting a fact taking over, “In about 50% of cases gestational diabetes can develop into type two diabetes. So you might…”He trails off when he finally looks at them, prompted to do so when Derek kicks him under the table, and he visibly swallows thickly at Emily and Aaron’s matching glares, “Never mind.”

It was one of the first things the doctor had told her when she was diagnosed. She was trying not to think about it, desperately trying to ignore that this could be a permanent way of life. She’d take it in a heartbeat though, she’d think about her sugar levels and potential future use of insulin if it meant her baby was safe, if it meant he was born healthy.

Emily presses her lips together and blows out a shaky breath, her hands on the table as she pushes herself up, needing some space, just a few seconds alone to try and pull herself back together, “I’ll be back in a second.”

She’s already in the bathroom, the door closed behind her when she hears Derek chastise Spencer.

“Way to go, boy genius.”

___

She makes it five weeks before she yells at Aaron.

Afterwards, she’s strangely impressed that she made it that long. Every single one of her nerves felt like it was frayed. She was falling apart at the seams, every defence she’d ever built around herself crumbling, and all it took was him asking if she’d checked her sugars yet for her to lose it.

She doesn’t think she’d ever yelled at him like that. Her words dripping with anger and irritation as she screamed that she knew what she was doing, that she was the one carrying their son and she knew what she had to do to protect him. That she’d been doing it for weeks and she didn’t need Aaron to tell her what to do, how to look after herself and their baby, any more than he already was with his overly prescriptive meal plan. He hadn’t said anything back, he’d just stood there and taken her tirade, a look of hurt flashing through his eyes when she brought up the recipe book that was open on their kitchen counter between them.

She cringes as she plays it back in her head.

She’s sitting on their bed hugging a stuffed shark, something that Jack had bought the baby with his allowance on a recent trip to the zoo, to her chest as she goes over everything she’d said to him. Aaron had let her walk away, he hadn’t followed her after she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door behind her in a way she hadn’t since she was a teenager pushing her limits. It somehow makes her feel worse, the fact that he knew her well enough to give her the space she needed even though she knows he’d want nothing more than to look after her.

She sits there, her face pressed against the soft fur of the shark she knows her son will one day love, for 30 minutes before there’s a light knock on the bedroom door. She looks up as it opens just enough for Aaron to peek his head around, a shy smile on his face.

“I come in peace.”

She can’t help but smile and shake her head at him and his relief is obvious, his smile wider as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He walks over and sits next to her, purposely leaving space between them that there usually wouldn’t be, taking her lead as always in how she wanted to do this. She closes the gap, sneaking closer until her head is on his shoulder, the shark still hugged to her chest.

“I’m sorry honey,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Aaron wraps his arm around her, lets her melt into his side, and he kisses her temple, his lips pressing love she’d stopped doubting a long time ago into her skin, “Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologise for.”

It makes her feel worse again, his unrelenting love and understanding forcing tears to press at the back of her eyes, her ability to control her emotions left somewhere back in her first trimester.

“God, you have to stop,” she chokes out, shaking her head as tears fall past her lashline. She presses her face against his neck, seeking out more comfort from him.

“Stop what, Em?”

She sobs as she pulls back, “Being so fucking understanding,” she says, wiping tears from her cheeks, “It’s making me feel worse.”

He smiles softly as he runs his knuckles down her cheeks, “You’re going through something that’s incredibly physically and emotionally taxing at the best of times,” he drops his hand to her bump, stroking his palm gently back and forth over it, “Let alone what you’re dealing with on top of that.”

She blows out a shaky breath, pressing her cheek against the stuffed shark, a tangible tether to her son until she could hold him in her arms, “I know you’re just trying to help look after us both,” her chin trembles, “And I am sorry for yelling.”

He kisses her forehead and then her lips, still smiling when he pulls back, “It’s okay,” he assures her again, “And I’ll try to be less over the top with the food,” his smile gets wider, “And I’ll carry on pretending I don’t notice you sneaking downstairs for peanut butter cups in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes go wide and she pulls back from him, her mouth falling open in shock, “You know about that?”

He chuckles and links his fingers through hers, “Sweetheart, didn’t you notice that you never ran out?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he watches the penny drop, her cheeks turning red in embarrassment “I’ve been keeping you stocked up.”

She shakes her head, her eyes still shining with tears as she smiles at him, “I love you so much.”

He pulls her into a hug, smiling at the feel of her bump, of their son, pressed between them.

“I love you too.”

___

She’s sure she’s never heard a better sound than her son’s first cry.

Instinctively she tries to sit up even though she’s numb from the waist down, desperate to get to her son, to see him for more than the brief second the doctor held him up over the curtain separating them.

“Is he okay?” She asks desperately, trying to sit up again, “Is he-”

“You need to stay still Emily,” the nurse sitting next to her says, her hand on her shoulder as Aaron strokes Emily’s forehead from where he’s sitting on her other side, something he’d been doing to soothe her since she’d been wheeled into the operating theatre, “They’re bringing him over now.”

“Someone here wants to meet his mom and dad.”

They both gasp as a nurse lays the baby on Emily’s chest, smiling as she encourages Aaron to help Emily hold him in place. Emily feels a sob shudder out of her chest as she looks at her little boy, his face scrunched up as he protests being born, furious and letting everyone know it as she tries to soothe him.

“Oh, sweet boy,” she says, tears slipping down her face and neck, “Look at you,” she turns her head to look at Aaron, “Look at him.”

“He’s so beautiful,” he says, kissing her fiercely, “You did so good, Em. I’m so proud of you.”

She chuckles humourlessly, shaking as she turns to look at him, not sure if she was cold from being practically naked or if it was the adrenaline, “I didn’t really do anything other than lay here and let them gut me like a fish.”

Whilst a c-section hadn’t been what she’d wanted, she knew it was the right thing for her and her little boy, that it was the safest way to bring him into the world. They’d made it to 37 weeks before her doctor said it was time and she’d walked into the hospital knowing she’d have a baby in just a few hours. Now she was looking at him, now she could feel his skin against hers, it had all been worth it. Every second she’d struggled through over the last few months something she’d do again in a heartbeat just for him.

Aaron chuckles and he leans in to kiss her before resting his temple against hers whilst they both look at their son, memorising every feature on his face, “You did everything, sweetheart.”

-x-

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f1amboyant · 2 months

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The rookie x tp au has me frothing at the mouth, they are so endearing to me, they give me so much joy and brain worms; Carcar has such variety of scenarios and dynamics, like, give me all the angst, all the fluff, all the spiciness!

But imagine, Oscar is still weird out about the whole Carlos situation, separating the TP from the vixen that has taking over his life is kinda difficult, you know; but now they are just back from a race overseas and they arrived late to Monaco and Oscar's house is still a work in progress so it is only natural he follows Carlos to his house and his very nice, very comfy bed. Oscar wakes up first, jet lag, and can admire Carlos sleeping for a while before getting his phone to check social media for a while before Carlos wakes up and he can beg for pancakes but he can't help but giggle after he sees the internet having a field day bc Toto has again make it seem like George slept at his house and everyone is coming with the rumors again and Oscar knows that it is not like that but can't help to wonder what would the reaction be if they could see his position right now 🫢🫢 (he totally wakes Carlos up who gets his vengeance roughing Oscar up AND THEN makes him pancakes)

Sorry if it is not greatly written, english is not my first language

Believe me anon, this tp x driver carcar au really makes me insane too!! 😵‍💫

Oooooh I love this idea!! Of course, Carlos would offer Oscar to come back to his house 🤭 And maybe Carlos offers to sleep on the couch, because he is a gentleman and he knows their situation is a bit unusual, and is a bit tentative for now. But then Oscar gets to witness Carlos in a comfy sweater and sweat pants, being all comfy in his home and that's his undoing. He thought his TP was hot with his sinfully tight white shirts. It's even worse in comfortable clothes. It does something in his heart (and in his crotch). He pounces on Carlos and they fall into Carlos' bed and Carlos shrugs like, okay sure, we can sleep together then 🤭

And in the morning, Oscar truly does admire Carlos' face as he sleeps, he is so so beautiful. Oscar doesn't know what he did to deserve that 🥹 And then Carlos snores loudly and the spell is broken 🤣 Oscar laughs, it wakes Carlos up, Carlos gets his sweet sweet vengeance. And when they're finally done, Carlos makes his famous fluffy pancakes (Oscar falls even more in love with him).

Aaaaaaaah this au truly makes me insane, they are so sweet together. I need more, please send all the asks 🥹

#ant answers asks #carcar #tp x driver carcar

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perseusannabeth · 1 year

Text

Chapter 8 - Cassian

A/N: Hi guys, long time no see!

I just want to thank everyone for all the lovely comments you left me during this really long break I took. I really appreciated them, even though I didn't respond. You guys were the reason I carried on writing.

After I posted the last chapter, my grandad got really ill, and he passed away at the beginning of this year, so I've been super absent because as you can imagine, taking care of my grandad, and then dealing with his sickness and then death took it out of me. I'm doing a lot better now though, but writing isn't coming to me as easily as it was before.

I felt like since I finally finished writing and editing this chapter, everyone deserved it, but I have no idea when the next chapter will be. I promise I'm still writing this fic, I'm just taking a long time to write the chapters.

With that being said, please remember that this fic is angsty. There are no trigger warnings I can think of for this chapter, but if people think of any that need to be added, please let me know!

Word count: 7282

LMBYH Masterlist | My Masterlist | My Ask Box | Read on AO3

Cassian had never been the kind of man to live in excess. He enjoyed his wine and whiskey as much as the next person, but he rarely got drunk. Frankly, he found the effects on his health the morning after far too much for a man of his age. This night, however, was making Cassian wish he could work his way up to a drunken stupor because the after-effects of that would be more enjoyable than this night.

It hadn’t all been bad though. He had felt fairly good at the beginning of the ball and eventually had felt a level of joy he hadn’t known was possible when he had danced with his wife. The dance had given him hope that perhaps they could grow to have a more ‘normal’ relationship as husband and wife one day. One where they could grow to care for one another, and where they could depend on each other. They could become a husband and wife partnership that his parents had never had. Cassian had felt the chemistry with his wife, and he had wanted more. But hope was for fools, and he was the biggest fool of them all.

Nesta had seemed to be enjoying herself, talking to old Devlon. He hadn’t even known they were friends, but that made Kallon’s outburst at their wedding even worse. Then she was sat by her sister, and Feyre seemed so happy to spend time with Nesta. He somehow managed to lose sight of his wife, he thought she was safe with Feyre. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was following her, he had stayed close by if she needed him. He didn’t want to smother her.

It had come as a shock to him when Adelaide told him his wife was not feeling well, and he looked around to notice she wasn’t in the main hall like he thought. When he had tried to find Nesta, he had managed to get cornered by Ianthe, which he should’ve known would happen. Then of course, he was careless and Nesta saw them together, and as he tried to chase his wife and explain what she had seen, only for her to bump into Philp Mandray of all people. It was like a nightmare, only worse because Cassian knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was real. He wished he knew what he had done to deserve this.

The events of the night felt like they were catching up with him, and his head certainly felt like it was spinning. He wished he could just go to sleep and forget any of this had happened, but he couldn’t. Cassian wasn’t sure how long he stood there, looking at Philip and Nesta before he managed to shake himself out of his daze. Seeing Philip was a shock to the system. He knew that Philip would not be welcome at Helion’s house. Helion had his own issues with Philip Mandray way before the issue of Cassian marrying Nesta had happened.

“Nesta, are you alright?” Cassian asked loudly, reminding both Philip and Nesta of his presence. Nesta flinched at the sound of his voice. Cassian felt like a knife had pierced his chest at the sight of his wife, practically in another man’s arms, flinching at the sound of his voice hurt him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s fine, she’s always been very clumsy,” Philip responded, his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as he spoke, a smirk on his face. Cassian’s hands were balled up, wishing he could throw a punch, but he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him like it did at his wedding. He needed to make sure Nesta was okay.

“I wasn’t aware that you had changed your name Mandray. Last time I checked, Nesta was my wife’s name. Care to explain why you decided to respond on her behalf?”

Philip’s face was instantly flooded with red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which brought Cassian great joy. Cassian hadn’t given a shit about Philip Mandray before, not until he had stopped Cassian from meeting Nesta before their wedding. Still, Cassian couldn’t bring himself to feel even the smallest ounce of guilt when it came to embarrassing Philip.

“Nesta, sweetheart, are you okay?” Cassian asked softly as he stepped forward. He slowly walked towards his wife, putting himself between her and Philip.

It seemed like that had been the right move, because Cassian coming into her line of sight seemed to snap her out of the state of shock she had gone into, and she didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice when she was looking at him. Cassian started to move his hand slowly to help her up, not wanting any sudden movements to startle his already terrified wife, but she didn’t even wait for his hand to become fully outstretched before she grabbed his arm so tightly Cassian wondered if she would leave marks. His wife was delicate and didn’t look like she would have the strength to do so, but she might prove him wrong.

She gripped him like she was afraid to let go, so Cassian brought her close by his side. Although he and his wife were not ones for public displays of affection, or any affection, Cassian felt that with Philip around, a united front was needed.

“I wasn’t aware that you were invited to Helion’s party Mr Mandray,” Cassian said, in the hope of reminding the man that he was risking making a huge scene if the hosts discovered he was here uninvited. A man like Philip put a lot of thought into his appearance, and sometimes needed reminding that he was not as untouchable as he thought.

“I was not, but I’m sure that I could’ve gotten an invite if I wanted. Anything can be bought for a price, after all,” Philip said, responding to Cassian but not taking his eyes off Nesta, who had buried her face in his chest. Cassian was trying not to focus on the fact this was the most physical contact they’d had since the wedding night.

“Well, an invitation to this party cannot be bought. I suggest you leave before you end up embarrassing yourself by having to be removed forcibly. I’m sure the guests would enjoy the entertainment though, if you feel like putting on a show,” Cassian said, smirking at him.

“There’s no need for the threats. That’s not the kind of behaviour I would expect from a Duke,” Philip said, tutting and shaking his head in fake disappointment.

“Ah yes but you forget, I’m not just simply a Duke. I was also in Her Majesty’s army. This is a tame reaction for a soldier,” Cassian said sternly. He didn’t remind people of his history very often, but Philip Mandray needed to be reminded that he was a threat.

Unfortunately for Cassian, it seemed that Philip didn’t give a shit. “What good is a soldier who has no experience in a war? We have been at peace for so long that your title is just for show.”

“I don’t need to justify my service to the likes of you. The Queen is aware of what I did for my country,” Cassian said, wishing he was able to say more.

Thankfully, Nesta tightened her grip on Cassian’s arm, reminding him she was in desperate need to get out of there. Although they hadn’t spoken about him very much, Cassian was very aware of how terrified she was of Phillip. He simply decided to ignore Philip’s existence (as much as it pained him) and focus on his clearly terrified wife.

“Do you remember what I said before we came? About how if you want to go home, you just need to say the word?” He asked quietly, so only Nesta could hear. Philip watched them with great curiosity, but Cassian ignored him.

Nesta had been shaking in his arms before, but now she was still. Cassian knew she remembered what he had said, but she didn’t say a word. He didn’t know why he was forcing Nesta to tell him she was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but he felt like it was important for her to say this.

He waited for a response, before deciding that perhaps it was best to ease her into these things. He knew she wouldn't have been allowed to voice her opinion while married to Tomas.

“Nesta, I need an answer. Do you want to go home?”

Nesta was so still in his arms that he wasn’t sure she had heard him. He was about to repeat himself when she nodded, her face still buried in his chest, but it was enough of a step for Cassian. He knew that telling him she wanted to go home had not been easy for her.

He didn’t bother glancing at Philip, who was glaring at him with such hatred that Cassian wished he could punch him. It seemed unfair that he had punched Kallon at the wedding, but had never once laid hands on Philip, despite him being far worse in some respects.

Still, he had someone else to think about now. He couldn’t let his emotions rule him, not when he had Nesta to worry about. He led Nesta into Helion’s study, knowing the guards would be standing around. As lax as Helion could be, he would never give someone the opportunity to slip into his study when nobody was paying attention. He’d learnt the hard way that he always had to be prepared.

Thankfully, the guards knew Cassian well enough to allow him into the study. He guided Nesta onto one of the many armchairs placed around the room, before going to the guard at the door, asking him to find someone to bring his carriage around to the side entrance. With the state Nesta was in, he didn’t want the partygoers to talk about her more than they already were.

A servant was called and asked to relay a message to Helion and Adelaide that the two of them would be leaving now. They would pass the message on to Nesta’s sisters and the rest of their friends so nobody would worry. He would have to explain what happened later on, once he had made sure Nesta was okay. He knew he had some explaining to do to his wife first, but seeing Philip had clearly scared her. He needed to make sure she was okay before talking to her about anything else that had happened during the evening. He didn’t want to add to her stress and worsen her condition, because she looked incredibly unwell right now.

Cassian was tempted to send a rider to go get the doctor so that they would arrive home at the same time as the doctor and he would be able to check Nesta over. Thankfully, the rational part of Cassian’s mind reminded him that his wife wasn’t even comfortable around him, so there was no way she would remain calm when a doctor tried to do an examination.

Since she had been seated in the armchair, Nesta had gone still. Before, when she had been in his arms, she had been shaking uncontrollably; whether this was due to her fear or shock, Cassian was unsure. Now, she was not reacting to anything. He had called her name a few times, moving in front of her hoping to snap her out of her trance, but there was nothing, not even a trace of recognition. He didn’t want to risk touching her in case she reacted badly. She seemed to shy away from him at the best of times.

Thankfully, the carriage pulled around the French doors, probably ruining Helion’s perfectly manicured lawn, but Cassian didn’t give a shit if he was perfectly honest. He knew that Helion and Adelaide wouldn’t care either.

“Nesta, the carriage is here. Let’s get you home now,” Cassian said gently as he kneeled down in front of her, slowly putting his hand on Nesta’s. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough to bring Nesta back into the present, although she seemed disorientated.

Cassian guided her into the carriage by her hand, similar to how you would take a child by the hand to guide them. Cassian joined her in the carriage, trying to give her as much space as possible in a carriage.

Not knowing what to say, Cassian decided to stay silent. His silence allowed him to get lost in his own thoughts, which mostly consisted of him thinking how nice the calm before the storm had been. His mind kept going back to how beautiful Nesta had looked while dancing in his arms. He had never seen his wife radiate such joy, and he wished he could go back to that. Instead, it had all gone to hell as soon as she left his arms, or so it felt like. There had been chaos after, and Cassian couldn’t understand what happened. Only, that was a lie. He hadn’t been careful. He had let his guard down in his joy of being out with his wife.

He was pulled out of his melancholy thoughts by the sound of Nesta gasping for breath. It seemed like she had come out of the trance, and now the panic in her eyes told Cassian she was hyperventilating.

“Nesta, it’s okay, you’re safe. Please, just breathe,” Cassian said, scrambling closer to her. His movements made her flinch away from him, so he stilled and sat as still as he possibly could in a moving carriage.

His words were no help to her, Nesta’s mind was already riddled with panic, and her breathing was getting shallower and louder. Cassian knew she needed fresh air, but stopping their carriages on the mostly deserted roads was not safe either, so he made a decision, which was most definitely a stupid decision.

He moved to the door of the carriage while he shucked off his overcoat, wrapping it around his hand clumsily, and then punched the glass. It shattered instantly, causing Nesta’s strangled-sounding breaths to stop. He ignored the pain in his hand and cleaned all the glass near Nesta so she wouldn’t get hurt.

Once her path to the broken window was as safe as he could make it, he moved back to the other side of the carriage. “You needed fresh air to help make you feel better. Please mind the glass,” Cassian said, nodding at the window.

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again after no words came out. She took some time, but eventually, she moved towards the broken window and closed her eyes. The gentle breeze moved the strands of hair that had come out of her coronet, and Cassian could almost fool himself into pretending she looked calm.

For the rest of the carriage ride, Nesta closed her eyes and focused on her breathing while Cassian watched her cautiously from the other side of the carriage. She didn’t seem to be calming down, not that he could tell anyway, but she was certainly getting control of herself again. Cassian wished he knew what that meant though. Was it calming enough? Did that mean she felt better, or just better enough to hide her emotions from Cassian? He assumed it was the latter, but it didn’t stop him from wishing he knew his wife better. How could they live together if they didn’t know each other? Every time he tried opening up to her, he was met with a cold hard wall. He knew she didn’t want to share things about her previous marriage, and he assumed none of it could be good, but he knew nothing.

A normal married couple would know things like each other’s likes and dislikes, and what made them happy or sad. A normal husband would know how to comfort his wife when she was in the state Nesta was in. But Cassian was no normal husband. How could he be, when Nesta was no normal wife? He didn’t need a normal relationship, and he had known that their marriage would be normal, but he didn’t imagine feeling so helpless. He had assumed that taking Nesta away from the Mandray house would free her. He didn’t realise the impact the years had on her until he started living with her.

When the carriage stopped outside of their house, Cassian felt relief. He knew that, here at least, Nesta was safe and comfortable. He had control of the environment, the situation and the people now, so he might be able to be more useful to Nesta. At the very least, he could do things to distract himself from the helplessness while his wife fought the demons in her mind.

He jumped out of the carriage, holding the door open for Nesta so she didn’t touch the broken glass. She stepped out gingerly, looking so weak that Cassian fought the urge not to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed.

Hill was waiting at the door, watching pensively as they came in. She knew Cassian well enough to know when something was wrong, and nobody could look at Nesta and assume she was okay.

“What do you need me to do?” Hill asked, ready to jump into action as per usual.

“I need some tea if you don’t mind,” Cassian said. Hill didn’t say anything, just rushing off towards the kitchen.

He guided Nesta to their bedroom, trying his best not to come too close to her. She seemed to be walking in a trance, the part of her brain that knew her routine just took over as she walked to their rooms. Nesta walked in and took a step towards the dressing room before Cassian gently told her to sit down.

She froze, and Cassian was sure that she had forgotten he was even there. “If you would just take a seat for a few moments, Hill will be here soon. I would feel much better if you drank some tea to calm your nerves before attempting to sleep.”

He knew saying he wanted Nesta to drink the tea was a low blow, she would see it as a direct order from him, but right now he didn’t care. If she was only willing to sit and drink the damned tea because he told her to, he would order her gladly. He needed to do something, anything to make himself feel better.

Nesta sat down, as he requested, on his mother’s armchair, which pleased Cassian, and he couldn’t quite say why. Either way, seeing his wife sitting in his mother’s favourite chair was a nice feeling. It calmed his nerves ever so slightly.

“Your hand,” Nesta murmured, as Cassian sat down on one of the other chairs.

“Pardon?” Cassian asked. She had spoken so quietly that he wasn’t sure he had heard her properly.

“Your hand, you hurt it,” Nesta said, looking at his injury.

Cassian followed her gaze to his hand, and to his surprise, it was bleeding. It looked rather gruesome, and as though it should hurt, and yet Cassian hadn’t even noticed it. He had assumed his clumsily wrapped overcoat would do the job, but in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about it very much. He had been far too distracted to realise he had hurt himself, and Nesta was clearly confused about how he didn’t notice it himself.

“It isn’t bothering me, my lady, there’s no need to worry,” Cassian said, trying to soothe her worries while covering his hand with his other hand.

Nesta’s frown deepened. She leaned closer toward him and gently pulled his bleeding hand closer to her for inspection. Cassian went still, holding his breath so that any movement didn’t stop his wife from voluntarily holding his hand. Of course, the circumstances weren’t great, but she had willingly held his hand! He certainly wasn’t feeling any pain now that his wife was holding his hand in hers so gently.

As a man, society dictated that Cassian didn’t need people to be gentle with him. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered him, he had simply accepted it was how life was and moved on. Nesta held his hand gently while she inspected it was the first time someone had been this soft since his mother had died. He hadn’t even realised he missed it. He had assumed when he thought about his mother and it hurt, he was missing her. He didn’t realise he was also missing the kind of love and affection that a man only ever receives from his mother.

It was strange how such a simple act of the slightest affection could make him feel that way. But it was also strange that Nesta seemed to find his injury grounding. When Hill walked into their rooms, he thought she would startle since she was very engrossed with his hand. Instead, Nesta looked up when she noticed Hill put the tea down next to her, and then listed the supplies for the things she needed.

Hill looked as surprised as he felt, but she quickly gathered all the supplies. “Do you need any help with anything? I can clean Cassian’s hand while you… Drink your tea,” Hill said, looking at Nesta with her eyebrows raised.

Nesta didn’t respond; she instead went still. “It’s quite alright, Hill. I think my wife can handle it. You can retire for the night now. We’ve taken up enough of your time,” Cassian said with a smile. He gave Hill a meaningful stare, wanting her to get out. If his wife was comfortable dealing with his bloodied hand, then he certainly would not pass the opportunity up.

Hill left with a small shake of her head, likely knowing exactly what Cassian was thinking. Then again, Hill most likely thought there would be more going on tonight than just Nesta dealing with his injury.

Nesta worked in silence, but it was clear from her actions that she was an expert at cleaning wounds. She picked out the glass pieces and put them into a cloth. Thankfully, There were only two fairly small glass pieces and they had not dug into anything important. It seemed that most of the damage had been done when he had punched the glass window, which was to be expected with his poorly wrapped hand. Perhaps he should not have moved quite so hastily, but he was far too worried about Nesta to care.

Once Nesta was sure his hand was clear of glass, she dipped another cloth into the bowl of water that Hill had provided, and gently cleaned his hand. Once the hand was clean and Nesta could inspect the wounds properly, she assessed that the cuts were not bad enough to warrant stitches. Cassian was glad to hear that news because although he was able to grit his teeth through the pain, he shuddered at the sight of a needle ready to sew his skin together. He could stomach it, but barely, and would rather drink some poppy syrup. He didn’t really want his wife to see him in that kind of state.

Nesta wrapped his hand gently, smoothing down the bandages as though she was caressing his hand. He wished he could feel her caress on his skin. His longing was interrupted by Nesta.

“You’ll need to keep it clean and change the bandage too. I do feel that we should perhaps get it checked over just in case the cut is deeper than it seems, or worse still if any glass remains.” Nesta said, looking at him with concern.

“I think perhaps it is too late to call on the doctor without it being an emergency, but I promise that I will get it checked tomorrow.”

Nesta nodded and then moved away from him to sit back in her chair properly. She slumped down, as though the toll of the day was physically weighing her down. They sat there in silence for a while, Nesta staring into the distance, Cassian watching her subtly.

Eventually, Nesta stood up. “It’s late, and I think I’ll get ready for bed, if that’s alright with you, your Grace?”

Cassian ignored the way she still asked for his permission. He didn’t have the energy to fight that particular battle right now, not after the night they’d had. He simply nodded and watched as she quickly scurried away into her dressing rooms.

\\\///

Cassian had hoped that his fitful night’s sleep would fix everything, but he had known deep down that he was being foolish. When he woke the next morning and looked at his wife’s tired face, he knew that the previous night’s events had taken its toll on both of them more than he had hoped. He felt like he was fumbling and had no idea how he could fix this mess.

Nesta seemed intent on carrying on with her day as though everything was normal. She went to her refuge, the library, even though she looked ready to drop. She asked for her breakfast to be taken to the library. Claude was thrilled, saying that it was a sign that she was feeling more comfortable making more demands. Cassian wasn’t so sure but didn’t want to say anything to make things worse. Plus, if he made Claude sad, the whole household would feel the effects of a sad Claude, and that was truly something to fear.

Cassian worried about his wife. Her resilience was something he admired greatly, but he wished she didn’t need to be this way. He wished he knew how to talk to and comfort her, especially after seeing the fear in her eyes when she was with Philip. He didn’t want to be a traditional, stern husband who barely spoke to his wife. He wanted his wife to rely on him, to be able to talk to him and tell him how she feels and what she thinks.

Nesta seemed perpetually terrified of everything, and he sometimes felt like she was probably afraid of her own shadow. The way she had looked at Philip was different though. Something had happened to make her scared of him. The problem was Nesta was not likely to confide in Cassian about these things, and unless she did so, he couldn’t reassure her that nothing like that happened to her again. But for her to believe that she would have to trust him, and Cassian knew she didn’t. He didn’t blame her, but it hurt a little.

Cassian tried his best to leave Nesta to her own devices, but it was no use. His mind was constantly occupied by worries for her, wondering if she was okay, and a week after the party he was close to his breaking point. He had to ask Jacob to repeat himself on multiple occasions, but Cassian was just thankful that Jacob hadn’t commented on his lack of focus.

When Jacob had suggested that perhaps the problem with the tenants could wait until tomorrow, Cassian had felt grateful that he was being given an out. It was too soon after the chaos of yesterday for him to be able to carry on as normal. His tenants would survive one day without him.

Cassian didn’t instantly want to go running to the library to see what Nesta was doing, worried that she would find him smothering. It was difficult for him because all Cassian wanted to do was check on his wife, spend time with her and get to know her. The fear of alienating his wife was the only thing that made him go see Claude in the kitchens instead.

“Cassian, what are you doing here? Surely you know better than to come into Claude’s territory unannounced!” Matthew said.

Cassian smiled at the young man, who, braver than most in his household, had volunteered when Claude had needed an assistant in the kitchens. Even Hill had shuddered at the thought of working in the kitchens with Claude.

Matthew was either very brave or very stupid, and Cassian truly could not tell which one it was. He had volunteered to work with Claude, which was a first. Even Claude had been shocked since the cook was nothing if not self-aware of his tyranny in the kitchen.

“I promise not to touch anything. I was just wanting some company,” Cassian said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Now it was Matthew’s turn to laugh. “And I suppose you seeking Claude out has nothing to do with how he sits with your wife. Your wife is quiet, but Claude manages to bring out the chatty side of her.”

Cassian had no clever response for that. He knew he had been caught. He smiled bashfully, and just shrugged, looking for Claude so he could talk to him. Matthew, knowing how these things work by now, simply informed him that Claude was outside and left them to it.

Cassian walked outside to see Claude in his garden patch. Claude was a big believer that if you could do it yourself, you should, and so he grew many fruits and vegetables himself. It was yet another reason why Claude was one of the best chefs in Velaris.

“Let me guess, you need my help to woo your wife,” Claude said, not looking up from his thorough inspection of his carrots.

Cassian spluttered, trying to come up with a way to sound less pathetic, but there was no way to achieve that. In the end, he gave up, took a deep breath and said, “I think I messed up.”

That made Claude look up in an instant, and a heart-stopping glare came his way. “What on earth have you done now? I should’ve known not to trust you with her alone. You’re such a brute. You have no idea how to treat a real lady,” Claude huffed in annoyance.

“Honestly Claude, if you can tell me what I did and tell you how to fix it, I’ll owe you forever,” Cassian said, running his hands through his hair. That made Claude pause. He knew Cassian well enough to know when things were serious.

“Tell me everything that happened.”

“It was all going really well, we danced, and she was smiling so much. I’ve not seen her that happy before. I could finally see some real emotions from her, not the ones she wears as a mask.” he sighed, thinking back to how radiant Nesta had seemed in the ballroom. It had been a moment where Cassian believed they could be happy together. They would work through whatever demons Nesta was fighting, and they would be able to be happy.

“It’s probably my fault things went wrong. I was talking to the others, and Nesta got up. I don’t know where she went or who she spoke to. You know how mercenary those women can be. I should’ve prepared her better. We all should’ve. But then Adelaide told me Nesta was in distress and she needed me. I went to the room I thought she was in and Ianthe told me-”

“Ianthe? What did that snake want?” Claude spat. Ianthe was not popular with his friends and family, especially considering how she had tried to integrate herself into their group. Cassian decided it would be best to keep the details of their interaction to a bare minimum, or his life might end up in danger.

“The usual, but that’s not the worst of it Claude. Nesta ran into Philip Mandray,” Cassian revealed.

“Fuck!” Claude exclaimed.

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea what he said to her, Claude. They couldn't have been alone for more than two minutes before I got there, but it was enough for him to say something that troubled her. The colour had all drained away from her face, and I was worried she was about to faint. She looked so unwell.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“At the time I was too focused on getting her home, it had all clearly been too overwhelming for her and then seeing Philip was just too much for her.”

“And what about since then? The next day did you try?”

“Claude, I know you don’t believe me when I say this, but I swear, I’m not actually an idiot. I’ve tried to broach the subject so many times, but she either leaves the room or changes the subject. Last night she even pretended to have fallen asleep, even though I could see her peeking to see if I had gone to sleep! I don’t know what else I can do.”

Claude’s angry expression melted away to sadness. “I’m not sure what I can suggest either, Cassian. I know she talks to me, but that doesn’t mean she’s open with me. In fact, she’s only ever talkative when asking me questions about my cooking. If I try to bring up other subjects she’s the same as when she talks to anyone else.”

“I don’t know what to do, Claude. At this point, I don’t even need her to open up to me. If she’s happier with me not knowing, that’s fine, but the problem is, Nesta won’t talk to anyone about what happened to her while married to Tomas. She won’t open up to her sisters, and she doesn’t seem to have any friends. It’s not healthy! The only thing that’s keeping me sane is that she seems to be happy in the library. I try to stay out of there as much as I can because it now feels like I’m encroaching on her safe space, but I worry about her being alone all the time.”

The two let the silence stretch on them until Matthew came out. “My goddess, it's miserable out here. What happened, did you two argue again?”

“No, we’re just worried about Nesta,” Claude said.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone and we’re worried that bottling things up is making her ill,” Claude explained.

“Well, has anyone else talked to her about their own struggles?” Matthew asked.

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked with a frown.

“Well, we all know what the Mandray house is rumoured to be like, so I understand your concern. The duchess does not act in a way that could be considered normal, but I’m sure she’s aware of that herself. Everyone who tries to get her to open up is doing so out of concern, but they don’t understand her. I don’t want to step out of line here, but is there anyone who she could relate to? Someone who’s been in a similar situation so she can see she’s not alone?” Matthew spoke as Claude and Cassian looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Why, Matthew, you’re a genius!” Claude leapt up and hugged the man, startling Matthew. “Of course, she isn’t going to feel comfortable talking to us!”

“You’re right, but who could she possibly feel comfortable with?” Cassian asked, unwilling to let himself get excited about something when he had no idea how to carry out the admittedly good idea.

At that moment, a boy called out for Cassian, and it was like he had been sent from someone up above as an answer to their question.

“I’m really sorry, Mr Duke sir, but me and my sister were playin’ out by the front with a ball, and I think we broke a window, sir. It was my fault, sir, I’m terribly sorry,” the boy said, trembling in front of him, but making eye contact nevertheless. Cassian would guess the boy was no older than 6 or 7 years old.

Claude let out a chuckle, startling the boy. “No need to worry about Cassian when it comes to broken windows Arthur. Cassian has probably broken every window in this place at some point or another.”

The boy, Arthur, looked from Claude to Cassian cautiously. “Why don’t you take me to where you were playing and show me what happened?” Cassian asked, gesturing to the boy to lead the way. It looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do, but clearly, Arthur felt like he had no choice.

“Of course, sir,” he said, resigned to his fate clearly.

“So, your mother is Eleanor, correct?” Cassian questioned, having finally been able to place the boy.

“Yes, sir, I’m the eldest. I have a little sister, Jane. She’s the one I was playing with, but it was all my fault, sir,” the boy sounded panicked, clearly worried his sister would get into trouble.

“It’s quite alright, Arthur. I know it’s hard to believe this, but I truly was a scoundrel when I was young. My mother used to despair when I played with my friends. Accidents happen, I’m just glad nobody was hurt.” The boy remained quiet, so Cassian attempted to change the subject. “Do you like living here?” He asked, not sure what other types of small talk he could make.

“Yes sir, I’m ever so grateful you took us in and allowed my mother to work for you. I ask you not to punish my mother or sister for something I did. I’ll take any punishment you give, sir.”

At that, Cassian frowned. “I won’t punish you, your mother or your sister for this, Arthur. It was an accident, and I believe you.” Cassian stopped in the middle of the path leading them to the front of the house. They were almost there, but Cassian felt he needed to clear things up with the boy. “I will never raise my hand against any of you. If anyone ever dares to do so, then you come to me or Jacob. Even if you have to disturb us, it is our duty to make sure people are safe.”

“I’m the man of the house. My job is to look after my mother and sister,” Arthur said, puffing his chest out to show Cassian importance.

“That’s a very big responsibility for someone so small, but I have no doubt in my mind that you do the job well,” Cassian said with a smile.

The boy’s shoulders slumped at that. “I only look small. I’m actually 10 years old!” The boy said frustratedly.

Cassian was shocked at that. The boy didn’t look big enough for 10. He was all skin and bones, but Cassian remembered how Eleanor had looked when she had first arrived here. The look of hunger was not something that went away easily. Eleanor had admitted to Cassian that she had run away from her husband, and she was worried about him finding them and wanting retribution, but she had never gone into any further detail. Cassian hadn’t needed details from her when he had seen how hungry she looked. In all honesty, the marks she bore were enough for him to know that Eleanor needed his help. The fact that she had come to enquire about a job in the stables despite not knowing anything about horses was also a testament to how desperate she was for money.

It had been lucky that Cassian had been thinking about the way he probably needed a lady’s maid, as he had recently agreed to marry Nesta. He knew Eleanor would be perfect for the role, so he took her and her children in with no questions.

He had seen the children around, and they seemed happy, but he didn’t realise how much the children had suffered at their father’s hand. It shocked him that a man could treat his own flesh and blood so poorly, but then again, if a man hit his wife, what morals could he claim to have?

“I know you are a brave young man, Arthur, and I’m sure you protect your mother and sister very well. Sometimes being young can help in these matters,” Cassian told the boy, who was frowning, studying Cassian.

“How?”

“Well, someone like my wife might feel more at ease around you compared to a grown man,” Cassian said, probing to see if the boy would take the bait.

“Your wife?” The boy asked curiously. “Is that the lady who is in the library?”

“Yes! You see, I wish there was a young man like you to keep an eye on her. That way, I’d know she’s safe without making her feel uncomfortable.” Cassian hesitated, wondering how much he should tell the boy. “You see, the man she was married to before was not very nice, and neither was his older brother. He was like your father, actually.”

At the mention of his father, Arthur looked angry. “I’ll make sure she’s safe from them all!” He declared angrily.

Cassan ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “I think she would appreciate some company in the library, especially with all those big heavy books. Perhaps when you have some spare time, you can help her?”

“Yes, of course!”

There was some commotion in the distance, reminding both of them of the broken window situation. “Oh, we’d best hurry to that window!”

They both rushed off and saw a little girl who Cassian assumed was Arthur’s sister Jane. Eleanor and Jacob had also turned up and were trying to comfort the little girl who was beside herself. The commotion had clearly attracted Nesta’s attention, as she hovered at the end of the path to her library, but she came no closer. She instead watched Cassian, probably to see what he would do. Cassian looked up at the window to see Hill already cleaning up the glass that had fallen inside.

“Is that all?” Cassian asked as he looked at the damage.

“Yes sir,” Arthur replied.

Cassian let out a laugh. “I had assumed it would be so much worse. That is only a small crack. I was assuming I would have to replace the whole window and the pane, the way you described it to me.”

“I can arrange for it to be fixed by tomorrow, Cassian, but in the meanwhile, Hill said she’d board up the hole. Is that alright?” Jacob asked. Cassian nodded.

“See, Janie, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Arthur said, acting like he hadn’t been scared out of his mind to tell Cassian. Cassian decided to let the boy have this victory, though, as it stopped the little girl from crying.

As Arthur went over to comfort his sister, Eleanor came over to Cassian. “My lord, I can’t thank you enough. I will work unpaid until you have covered the costs of your window replacement,” she said in her quiet, gentle voice.

“Eleanor, I’m not going to do that. But you don’t have to worry about it anyway. Arthur has taken care of it all.” Eleanor looked at him curiously but said nothing, so Cassian elaborated. “He’s going to spend some time with Nesta, keep an eye on her, and keep her company. I’m worried about her, but your son has a good head on his shoulders, and I trust him.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Eleanor said, smiling as she watched her children talking animatedly to Jacob, trying to explain how the window broke. Jacob was in good humour and went along with their dramatics.

Cassian was well aware of his wife watching them from a distance, but he felt no need to try and rope her into this conversation. He was content that, finally, he might be able to bring her out of whatever she was going through. Watching the children, so innocent and full of joy, gave him hope. Their resilience reminded him that people could always come back from sadness, but sometimes they needed a little help.

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#acotar #nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #fics #lmbyh

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thegamingcatmom · 2 months

Note

Hi! I have a goofy question for you :P

You know how when you say your SO full name it means trouble right? How would the sisters react to that? Would they feel threatened or feel as if they were in trouble if they suddenly heard MC calling any of them by their full name? And would they mock one another for it? (We all love some good sisterly chaos)

Thanks! And have a good day/night! ❤️

Hellaw! ❤️

Omg I love that idea, LMAO.

And you´re absolutely correct: Full name means trouble...always. MC won´t even be able to finish-

The sisters are gone, evaporated, vanished into thin air-

...Jokes aside: I think they got different reactions to it:

MC: "Irina Denali"

hardly ever does something that would justify such drastic measures (the full-name-calling), so her reaction depends on whether or not she´s aware she´s done something

NOT AWARE:

slightly surprised

but that´s about it

which means she´s gonna react as she usually would when her darling mate calls for her attention

"Yes, Maličký?" 🥰

...well, fck

wait

why´s MC the one feeling guilty now?

she hasn´t even gotten started yet, ffs

damn that woman and her heart eyes

how´s MC supposed to stay mad like this?

wait

what´s the topic again?

...

Irina: 👀 "Baby? Everything alright?"

MC: 🫠

needless to say, no "punishment" for Irina today

not that she realizes

the adorable bean

AWARE:

one of those very rare times yall will witness Irina Denali cringing

she absolutely despises it

because it means that, whatever she´s done, she got caught doing it

also because it probably means MC is angry with her

or disappointed

could things get any worse?

she´s not one to lash out or try to talk her way out of a situation when confronted though

instead, she´s gonna listen carefully

nodding here and there to convey MC´s got her full attention

(she´s such a good noodle)

she´s gonna accept her "punishment" because she knows the treatment is justified

will vow to do better from now on

(...meaning: She´s gonna make 100% sure nobody witnesses a damn thing next time)

REACTION TO HER SISTERS GETTING "PUNISHED":

she does enjoy it when her sisters are on the receiving end of that sternness

(because they more than deserve it, if you ask her)

she doesn´t openly show it, though

a gentlewoman never tells, after all

MC: "Katrina Denali"

"...Yes, beloved?"

never calls MC "beloved", so yall know she´s as fake as it gets here

*affectionate* she´s a lil shit

she knows it

MC knows it

the whole household knows it

it comes as no surprise, then, that her full name comes across MC´s lips more often than not

also because she actively provokes it

she does enjoy seeing MC all stern and bossy

(so hot)

pretends to be all surprised and confused, perhaps even remorseful

the glint in her eyes betrays her every time, though

nodding here and there to give the impression that she´s listening, but her whole focus is on MC being all stern and bossy

(so fcking hot)

seeing her sisters getting full-name-called brings her immense joy

she doesn´t hide it

at all

...

she´s still grinning

Oh...really?

MC: "Well, baby, since you seem to find all of this so funny, I´m sure you´ll have a hilarious time feeling up the couch tonight."

...

loses her grin so damn fast

(Tanya & Irina, on the other hand: 😁😁)

(they hide it well, though)

this time, the remorse on her face couldn´t be more genuine as she hurries after MC

"Baaaabe, cmoooon! I´m sorry! Honest-"

oh, she was honest alright

a touch-starved Kate Denali is a deadass Kate Denali

a rare sight indeed

best enjoy it while it lasts

(MC very much plans on doing so)

...

Tanya & Irina, at each other: 😏😏

MC: "Tatiana Denali"

confused, speechless, in utter disbelief

which doesn´t happen often

like, yes, she has a name

so does MC

isn´t that wonderful?

what of it, though?

hold on...you mean to tell her that she is deserving of such a cruel treatment??

*affectionate* excuse?

...

snaps out of it after a while

also because her sisters are staring at her like the cats who got the cream

(Irina is more reserved, but her eyes say it all)

(Kate´s shit-eating grin would have made the thin thread of her composure snap, had it not been for the fact she was still processing-)

the absolute audacity

she´s a leader, a commander, the proud head of this family

she will not be made to look like a fool in front of-

...

Tanya: "...Yes, love."

also Tanya: "...Forgive me, my love."

also Tanya: "...Of course, darling."

(Kate: *makes whip cracking sound*)

(which leads to her getting full-name-called...again)

she does quite enjoy seeing MC reprimant her sisters, though

she couldn´t be prouder

MC showing all the confidence and authority that comes with being a leader´s mate

quite...fascinating indeed

...utterly...bewitching

...

...excuse her

*proceeds to drag MC away*

Kate & Irina: 🙄🙄

Thanks a lot for that ask, my dear! 💋

#tumblr asks #twilight #the twilight saga #the denalis #denali coven #denali sisters #tanya denali #kate denali #irina denali

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sspextkr · 5 months

Text

snowjanus week- day 1: literature

❝ don't you let go! ❞

lotr au, based on rotk. mostly based on the movie since it's been a hot minute since I've read the book in which coriolanus and sejanus finally arrive to mount doom. the journey is finally over.. or is it?

trigger warnings: major charafter death, suicide, heavy trauma

a/n: if you've seen lotr and read the title.. you probably know what this is about fhensn

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.”

― JRR Tolkein

"We've done it," Coriolanus wants to tell himself. So, so desperately. "The journey is over. We can go home."

No matter how much you say something, though, it doesn't make it true. They're only halfway done, after all. They still have to make it out of this blasted mountain and walk home. Another year or so of walking. No food or water to carry them on. The Ring will have been destroyed, sure, and the army's of Mordor will surely begin to fall, or weaken in the slightest, but that doesn't mean everything will suddenly become easy.

The only reason the Ring was destroyed was because of the horrible creature, Gollum. In a way, Coriolanus owes everything to the Hobbit. Without his guidance and obsession over the One Ring, he wouldn't have made it to Mordor so easily. It wouldn't have been destroyed.

"The Ring is mine, Sejanus." The words fell from his tongue so, so easily. What was the point of resisting anymore? It had stuck with him this long. The Ring was notorious for going from bearer to bearer, but it had yet to leave him. Maybe it was a sign– A sign that he was the next in line for the throne.

"No. No, you can't–" Sejanus sobbed. He took a heavy step forward, and then another, pleading. Coriolanus slipped the Ring onto his finger and vanished from sight. He made a beeline for the exit, only to find himself pulled back by Gollum.

The two would tumble, resulting in Coriolanus getting his index finger bitten off by Gollum in a desperate tussle for the Ring and them both tumbling over the edge of the cliff. Gollum fell into the lava below, taking the Ring with him, while Coriolanus was able to catch the ledge with his mangled hand.

He was able to tell the second the Ring was destroyed. He could feel it in his soul, he dare thought. He would've cried in relief if his life wasn't in danger. Coriolanus tried to haul himself up, reaching up with his uninjured hand. When he caught the ledge and tried to pull himself up, he slipped, only able to catch himself by luck.

I'm trapped. He thought as his hand began to slip. It's a good ending to my story, I suppose.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.. When a warm, familiar hand fell over his.

"Coryo! Open your eyes!"

Sejanus. Dear Sejanus. His eyes were wide with terror, blood dripping from a giant gash on the side of his head, coating his already muddied face in crimson.

"It's me, your Sejanus. Give me your hand!" Sejanus reached down, yelling over the rumbling of the mountain. It was going to erupt any second now, surely. The Ring was the one thing keeping Mordor together, and with the Ring destroyed, Mordor would follow blindly, like a soldier into battle. "Give me your hand!"

Coriolanus swallowed heavily, swinging his hand upward in a half-hearted attempt to grab his friends hand. The shaking was getting worse. His mangled hand's grip wasn't enough–

A dark thought crossed his mind.

He could let go now. He'd fulfilled his mission, destroyed the Ring and saved his home. His friends. Everything he ever stood for. The last great evil of Middle Earth had passed.

And a hero deserves to rest.

He glanced up at Sejanus with tired, tortured eyes. A gaze that once held so much life.. So much joy and love. A gaze that told a thousand stories in a second.

But now? It begged to be freed.

Sejanus lowered himself further, blindly pawing at his hand. "Come on!"

Didn't he get it? Didn't he understand? Heroes are lucky if they get to choose the ending to their tale. Coriolanus has that choice.

He was tired. Withered down to the bone. When he looked into his future, all he saw was darkness. Not the comforting darkness you get when you sleep, but the void of life.

"Don't you let go! Don't you let go!"

If only it could be that simple.

There's no other choice.

Coriolanus swung his good hand up again and managed to grasp Sejanus' hand.

Sejanus' face flooded with relief. Coriolanus gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Before letting go.

He could barely make out Sejanus' cry for him over the roar of the mountain.

When he hit the fire below, it hurt.. But only for a moment.

Then, came the darkness he had longed for.

#snowjanusweek2 #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #coryo snow #sej plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #coryo x sej #lotr #lotr au #return of the king #rotk #heed the warnings

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year

Note

Personal hc of mine is that the worse thing you could do to Genesis (as like, a friend) is give him the silent treatment

*Genesis smugly strides up to Sephiroth in the SOLDIER cafeteria after an argument*

Genesis: Well, I see you're here too.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: I must say, it's mighty bold of you to show your face in the same place I am after insulting me with such abysmal takes.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Hm. I see how it is. The silent treatment. A classic.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Never would I have thought the great Sephiroth would stoop so low as to use such a childish tactic.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: I hope you realize that this further proves how childish you are.

Sephiroth:

Genesis:

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Are you done?

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Sephiroth.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Fine! I admit I may have been a bit of an asshole, but it's me, right? What do you honestly expect? *laughs nervously*

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Get it? Because I'm always an arrogant egomaniac *laughs nervously*

Sephiroth:

Genesis: And I'm always.... looking for reasons to argue. Especially with you.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: Because I admire you immensely....

Sephiroth:

Genesis: And having you contradict any unethical opinion I have brings me joy beyond words.

Sephiroth:

Genesis, tearing up: Even though I am a bit too much sometimes.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: But it's not like truly I mean to to insult you.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: You're my best friend. I could never live with myself I knew that I hurt you.

Sephiroth:

Genesis: FINE! FINE! YOU WIN! HAPPY? I WAS WRONG! I'M ALWAYS WRONG! AND I'M ALWAYS A BITCH AND ACT LIKE I'M ABOVE EVERYONE BECAUSE I'M DEEPLY INSECURE AND CAN'T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF BEING UNLOVED! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?

Sephiroth:

Genesis: THAT I'M A DEEPLY BROKEN INDIVIDUAL IN NEED OF CONSTANT REASSURANCE LEST I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND SEE THAT IM NOTHING SPECIAL!? THAT IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO BE ADEPT IN ARTS AND SCIENCE? THAT I HAD TO STAY UP MOONLIGHT AFTER MOONLIGHT IN THAT TRAINING ROOM PRACTICING AFTER EVERYONE WENT TO BED SO THAT I COULD HOPE TO BE EVEN A FRACTION OF WHAT YOU ARE!? THAT IT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH!?

Sephiroth:

Genesis: THAT INSTEAD OF BEING KNOWN AS A HERO I'M THE FUNNY ONE? THE ONE WHO NEVER SHUTS UP? HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED THAT MAYBE THAT'S THE ONLY THING THAT GETS ANYONE TO PAY ATTENTION TO ME? THAT STRIVING TO BE ATTRACTIVE, TO BE TALENTED, TO BE INTERESTING IS ROOTED IN MY CHILDHOOD NEED TO PLEASE MY PARENTS AFTER FINDING OUT I WAS ADOPTED???

Sephiroth:

Genesis: YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU WIN! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! I GIVE UP! BE MAD AT ME! I DESERVE IT!

Sephiroth:

*Genesis walks away in tears*

*Sephiroth removes his wireless earbuds*

Sephiroth: Genesis? Huh, that's odd. I thought I heard his voice.

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy vii crisis core #crisis core final fantasy vii reunion #incorrect final fantasy

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aita-blorbos · 1 year

Note

AITA for wanting to live, even though it means my ‘parent’ and twin will never be able to?

Hi! Sorry if I used the wrong terms to describe those relationships. I wasn’t really sure how to put it into words.

A very, very, very long time ago, I (??? M) was born in a strange way. My ‘parent,’ E (??? NB) was a cruel alien who was kidnapped and experimented on. One of these experiments went wrong and my ‘parent’ split in two, creating me and my twin.

I was apparently all of the goodness in E’s heart. Their love, joy, and compassion. I managed to escape the lab E was kept in and go on to live my own life. But my newly born twin, F (??? NB) wasn’t. I

Whereas I was all of E’s goodness, F was all of their misery. They were made of sadness, anger, resentment and misery. And even worse, they couldn’t live on their own. They had to depend on the lab they were trapped in as life support and were stuck there while I escaped.

I… probably should have come back for them, but I didn’t know what they or I really were at the time. It only all started to make sense later.

‘And so I lived. Without them. And I was happy. And while I did… they dreamed.

They began to use their powerful psychic energies to brainwash the native creatures of this planet (not the same ones who kidnapped us. They’d already left for another universe). They put these creatures to work. They had them find a way to create lots of energy to sustain them and even tried to kidnap me so we could ‘reunite.’

That was very, very scary for me. I didn’t fully understand what was going on or what I was. Just that scary creatures were trying to take me someplace I didn’t want to go. And so I ran.

But eventually, they caught me. They brought me back to the lab where they were kept and eventually made us whole again. ‘E’ was reborn.

But thankfully, a friend of mine came to rescue me. He defeated E and split us again— freeing me.

F (Who was still taking the form of E, but I think it was them, at least) was furious. They’d spent so much time waiting to be whole only for that to be ruined for them. They decided to do something drastic.

They opened up a portal and tried to throw my friend’s planet into the planet we were on— something that would have killed everyone on both planets if they succeeded!

But my friend was quick thinking, thankfully, and defeated them. He ate a truck and ran them over, killing them.

I thought our issues would be done after that. That I could relax and I’d never have to worry about turning into an evil world-destroying alien again— especially since all the creatures F brainwashed were now free.

But one of them… the leader of those creatures, L, was still missing. And his friends were really worried about him! Eventually we learned his body had been taken to a mysterious dream dimension and his soul had been shattered into pieces. We resolved to fix this.

This was, of course, the work of F. Although their body has died, their powerful mind lived on in a spirit dream dimension. They were trying to turn L into a new vessel for themself.

We ended up stopping them through a convoluted scenario in which I think we met the grim reaper? But although we saved L, F’s soul escaped, and they stole some energy from the aforementioned grim reaper to boot, allowing their soul to take on the form of E again, but even more powerful.

We tracked E/F down and defeated them once and for all— this time finally truly destroying their spirit. The last of their life flowed into me, and I was made whole again, albeit without anything about my personality or appearance changing. I stayed in control this time.

I’ve been wondering a lot since then— did I do the right thing? E and F were really nasty, but it doesn’t seem fair that I get to live while they didn’t. What did I do to deserve this? I wasn’t even the original. Why am I the one who gets to survive?

AITA for stealing their shot?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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watanabes-cum-dump · 2 months

Text

Talking abt Stormblood bc it's not as bad as ya'll made it out to be

I thought Stormblood was amazing. Kinda slow in the beginning but it picks up after the Reach gets destroyed. I swear to god I cried at the ending cutscene where they were singing the Ala Mhigan anthem I have never felt so damn patriotic for a fictional country in MY LIFE.

For me, I think Heavensward and Stormblood both sit in the same camp of "high highs but LOW lows" because both of them have great moments but then utterly fail in others. For example, I thought Stormblood's villain cast was amazing especially compared to Heavensward. The more political aspects of Stormblood's story were also a joy and the whole thing did feel like an exhausting two front war. I think where Stormblood failed where Heavensward and the other expansions (up to SHB at least) succeeded is the character development. As for Heavensward's lows... it's the entire second half leading up to the final confrontation. Yeah I said it. After Haurchefant died the writing kinda took a nosedive in quality and then gradually built it's way back up to the Final Steps of Faith which I felt was an amazing finale. I will go into Heavensward another time bc I feel the need to defend Stormblood a bit.

Obviously we need to talk about Lyse now so let me preface this by saying that I LOVE Lyse. She is amazing and I liked her a lot- HOWEVER. I can't deny my girl was done DIRTY. I feel like Lyse just didn't really grow? Like pre Stormblood Lyse and post Stormblood Lyse are supposedly different people but nothing feels different? Character development doesn't need to be drastic as Alphinaud's ARR-Heavensward development but I feel like there is nothing different at all about Lyse. I guess you could say there's a difference between Lyse as "Yda" and normal Lyse but I don't think there is? No I don't have any proposal's on how to "fix" her writing I just feel like maybe we skipped a couple steps? I feel like in Stormblood we didn't get lots of individual character moments as opposed to the other expansions where we always got some moments where the main story takes a backseat for a cutscene or two and we talk feelings. Because that's where I feel ffxiv's character writing shines. In those moments of reflection and quiet we get lots of characterization. Or maybe it was in Stormblood or a) I forgot or b) it just didn't fucking matter in the end. The later is probably the worse.

I feel like Hien also has this problem where it feels like he did a lot of his development off screen before we met him. Which would be fine if he was just a supporting character but he's kind of the main character for our time in the Far East and in a good chunk of the post Stormblood MSQ. Again- I love Hien. That's my homie- but he just feels sort of nothing at times? Like there are just gaps in his character or really important moments that we should have seen but we just didn't. Again, I have no offers on how to "fix" it but it just feels really off.

I think Stormblood did a much better job with the villain's writing this expansion. Like the characterization and backstory of the antagonists this expansion (barring Asahi bc he felt kinda tacked onto Post-Stormblood stuff) was amazing. I really felt for each of the villains this expansion. I do think there is something to be said about how ffxiv girls always kinda get cucked when it comes to writing bc I thought Yotsuyuu deserved better and Fordola begrudgingly beginning to align herself with the heroes post Stormblood feels like untapped potential. Idk what it is but the writers seemed to have thought out the villains more this expansion than the heroes.

Like obviously I love Zenos everybody fucking knows that about me- but Yotsuyuu bro. Hnnng. I kind of love how she's not a fighter and how she deals with her femininity. Like I was so fucking sick when post-Stormblood her fuck ass dad shows up and remarks that she's still pretty and he could sell her off???? God. I'm sorry I loveeeeee exploration of the female experience in any media and maybe it's a personal thing but Yotsuyuu really parallels my WoL. Yotsuyuu is just female rage to the max I love her and I completely understand her. Yeah, if I grew up like THAT I would have also turned on my own country. (/j)

Actually let's circle back to ffxiv girls getting done dirty by the writing because Y'SHTOLA???? HELLO????? My girl did NOTHING for the SECOND EXPANSION IN A ROW????? Y'shtola was out of commission for literally all of Heavensward and only came back during the Dragonsong questlines for convenience AND THEN she gets cucked after the big inciting incident of Stormblood and just doesn't wake up until (from what I remember) the final battle??? WHAT THE FUCK MAN??? I think Y'shtola in general just has kind of a big writing problem as well but like her characterization is so good I can't help but like her and that can be said for a lot of ffxiv characters especially this expansion.

Aiyaa anyways, tldr Stormblood overall plot was super ambitious and mostly good, character writing fell kinda flat this expansion. Stormblood is also unfortunately sandwiched by two objectively better expansions bc Heavensward is so fucking hype and Shadowbringers is... Shadowbringers. Yeah I finished Shadowbringers and I kinda feel for Stormblood lmao like how do you immediately get followed up by THAT. It's not even a competition. I feel like Stormblood was really long- which I do appreciate bc uh I sped through Shadowbringers in like four days 💀. Pacing is very important and I think Stormblood needed to be long to be believable. It feels like it takes span across several months which makes sense because we're fighting two fucking revolutions.

However, I think Stormblood really wins when it comes to the trials and raids. None of the dungeons really stuck out to me BUT THE TRIALS. Ohhh my god. Susano my fucking beloveddddd ugh that fight is so fun. Also the Yojimbo/Gilgamesh trial from the Hilibrand quests is a great time it's always a good day whenever I get it in roulettes. I have yet to do the Alliance raids bc I kindaaaa got distracted with Shadowbringers but I think the Omega raids as well as the accompanying questline was a delight. If Stormblood wins over ANY expansion it's for the content. I've already finished the Shadowbingers raids (the lesbians got me) but I think the Omega raids are still a lot more fun. As for the Alliance raids, well, Stormblood has to top the Nier raids for me because I think they're GLORIOUS. But yk what I'm sure it will bc from what I've gathered everyone says Stormblood has some of the best content.

#trust i WILL get to heavensward i need to speak my piece abt it #stormblood #ffxiv stormblood #stormblood spoilers #lyse hext #hien rijin #y'shtola rhul #yotsuyu goe brutus #ffxiv #ff14 #kouryuu's shit #final fantasy xiv

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ryuichirou · 10 months

Note

So I wonder how Twisted wonderland cast be like murdering for the first time. I want to imagine angst on them and if they are scared or delight. I want to hear your thoughts (maybe except Lilia since he is definitely murder a lot of people.)

Anon, this is SUCH a good question. It made me think for hours lol this is what I came up with!

Riddle could either murder someone on accident or as a corporal punishment (if we take his quirk/unique magic too far), and his reaction would kind of depend on what exactly has happened. If it’s the second option, he’ll try to stay calm, cold and collected, and say that the murdered guy got what he deserved and that he had no choice but to dispose of him. But even then, after he freaks the fuck out of everyone around him and leaves to his room, he’ll probably have a breakdown. Then he’ll just cope even harder to justify what he has done and start offing people left and right lol And if it’s the first option (I can picture him overdoing it with his magic), he’ll probably have a breakdown immediately. Nothing good comes from that, because Riddle’s psyche is already pretty bad, but with such a heavy sin on his conscience, there is no way he’ll be able to face it. Hence, more dangerous delusions and more heads flying.

Ace wouldn’t plan on murdering anyone; he’ll definitely do it by accident. He is petty, but there are limits to what he’d do. And he’d take it even worse than he would’ve thought he would. He’ll hide and will definitely get involved with some shady people who’d promise to cover his tracks for him. Maybe the Octa-trio lol But then he’ll spend his whole life trying to numb this feeling of fucking up So Massively and the feeling of his conscious eating him alive.

Deuce would be terrified because he’d definitely realise what he’d done post-factum, with his fists covered in blood and the murdered guy barely looking like a human. So after having a massive meltdown and screaming in panic and crying, if he isn’t arrested by that point (miraculously) he’ll try to give the guy some kind of a proper burial and just run. We’ll never see Deuce again, because there is no way he can face his loved ones after that. He might turn himself to the police, but his own dream about becoming a policeman... yeah, not happening.

With Trey it’s funny; I don’t think he’d kill on accident. If Trey murders someone, it’s definitely deliberate, and by that point Trey would probably feel like that person deserved it. There are only two people I can imagine him killing (yep Riddle’s parents), and even though he would feel hurt afterwards, it’d mostly be out of his sympathy for Riddle, and not because he did something wrong. He’d have moral dilemmas inside his head, because by saving Riddle from abuse, he also robbed the world of two excellent doctors, which can’t be a good thing. But for a weird reason, Trey just can’t help but think that he did the right thing. Trey is not a good person lol

Cater… I don’t know what would drive Cater to kill someone, it might be an accident, but he also might be unstable and we just don’t know about it yet. In any way, he’s probably the one to cover that fact surprisingly well. Of course, he’ll become even more obnoxious with his fake persona, but everyone would just assume that it’s Cater being Cater, while Cater can still heard people screaming in terror in his head.

I don’t know about Leona, he didn’t seem to mind endangering people all that much. Giving a nod to the character he’s based on, I can picture him plotting his brother’s murder. And maybe I just want Leona to be horrible because it’s more fun that way, but I don’t want him to show any remorse in that situation. Well… Of course he’ll show remorse and try to act maturely and empathetically towards those who are the most affected by Falena’s death, but he’ll also probably have a moment a triumph behind the closed doors. Even if there is some guilt out there, it’s definitely buried under this euphoric joy. Oh, and Cheka?.. He’d better run and never return.

Ruggie could do it either on accident or intentionally, but it probably won’t be personal. He would do it either because he was asked to or because he was saving himself. Either way, he would be shaken up by it, but he’ll try to get over it as soon as possible. So yeah, he’ll sob for a moment, then slap his own face and just keep going. No one would ever guess that he keeps such a wild and horrible secret. Who even knows how many people he’s killed…

Jack would kill a person on accident (he’s very big and doesn’t always control himself well…) and then immediately turn himself in to the police. There is NO WAY he’s hiding it. Keeping it a secret would be unbearable to him, it’s much better to get punished. He’ll also do the whole “apologizing to the family and being willing to do any kind of work to repent” thing. He’s too much of a good boy.

Oh Octavinelle… I feel like merpeople’s relationship with deaths and murder is a bit different, but not drastically, they are just a bit more tolerant to that because this is the reality they live in: it’s very dangerous in the ocean.

And the tweels are even more of a special case, because they are mafia babies who are also kind of sort of cannibalistic. They’ve seen everything, they are super comfortable with the idea of taking someone’s life, and they probably don’t even remember and think much about their first time doing it. They see the world through a very unique lens, so to them it’s a very natural thing. That being said, they do enjoy killing, when they are in the mood. They find the victim’s reaction fascinating, and they’ve seen it all: they’ve seen panic, they’ve seen despair, they’ve seen confusion. I also feel like Jade is a bit more invested in this whole thing than Floyd these days; Floyd is a bit bored by murder at this point, but Jade keeps finding more and more intricate ways to fatally wound someone. It doesn’t mean that Floyd wouldn’t do it for funsies, of course.

Azul is definitely more sensitive than these two, who pretty much lack empathy for their victims, and he is probably yet to kill someone, so when he does, he’s going to remember his first time forever. Azul really enjoys punishing people who he feels are deserving of the said punishment, and he is extremely petty, so I can see him doing the heartless bitch thing and offing someone because he has “ran out of patience”. And he is conflicted, because he feels thrilled when he has this power over people, and he enjoys it tremendously and maniacally, but sometimes he also feels sick to his stomach and gets a lump in his throat and goosebumps and cold sweat for some reason… I guess it’s just disgust, huh? Either way, he prefers to save it for those who are the most deserving of his wrath.

We love the idea of Kalim being a murderous beast with no regard to other people’s lives, but in actuality I feel like he would get terrified by that. He’d probably kill on accident, I can’t even picture a situation in which he would do it on purpose; and when he does it on accident, one would expect him to start yelling and crying, but Kallim would be so deeply affected by it that he would just… go numb for a while. With no reaction to what happened whatsoever, but also terror in his eyes. Jamil would expect him to explode at any moment, but the only thing he’d get is that Kalim would start to act like nothing has happened. Is he lying or did he repress the memories of what he did? Is he going to snap at some point? Is he in danger and/or is he dangerous? Who knows.

Jamil wouldn’t kill on accident – he is too smart to kill on accident; his actions would be 100% deliberate and thought out. And if that’s the case and he ends up killing, I don’t know, maybe someone from the Asims, he’ll probably feel such insane joy that it’ll honestly be difficult for him to hide it. Either that or he’ll kill whoever tries to attack Kalim, and in that case he just won’t feel anything. No matter the scenario, there won’t be any remorse in his heart. But he could also cry in a shower for a reason unknown even to himself afterwards.

Vil…. Oh Vil. Vil is an impulsive killer. He’s rational and humanistic enough to generally think that people shouldn’t be killed, but we’ve seen what he could do when he’s way too overstressed lol So he’ll probably kill someone deliberately, but also out of overwhelming emotions, and then he’ll feel disappointed by himself. He might not feel guilty, but in that case he’ll feel guilty for not feeling guilty. It’s almost like he is a bad person, how could he feel no compassion to the murdered person whatsoever? Is this who he really is, a heartless monster? I also could see him either turning himself in to the police or just leaving his whole life behind and running away, at least at first, until he figures out what’s going on in his heart. Killing is wrong, so why did it feel so right?

Rook is suuuuper comfortable with the idea of murdering someone. He is a hunter and he puts his own meaning in this whole thing – just like a game bird needs to be killed in order for Rook to enjoy the beauty of its delicious meat, sometimes a person needs to be killed just so they don’t piss him off anymore. Of course, the reason is usually not as petty, or at least Rook gives his own poetic Rook spin on it lol

Epel would be a shaking crying throwing up mess after killing a person, even if it was self-defense. He is ferocious, so the guy who he had killed would look like he got attacked by a wild animal and not a frail boy with a knife, but when the adrenalin rush ends and Epel is left with the results of his fury, he’ll definitely have the biggest meltdown of his life. He’d try to do the same thing that Deuce did (bury the body and run away), and he’ll definitely be saddled with guilt, but he’ll also spend a lot of time thinking about just how much the guy deserved it. This is only the beginning of Epel’s troublesome path though, because he’ll definitely get into more trouble as his story continues…

Idia… well, we know what Idia went through already lol we’ve seen his backstory. Of course he didn’t kill Ortho, but he feels like he did, so the emotional rollercoaster he went through is pretty similar in this situation. But if it wasn’t Ortho, but some other person who he would kill physically with his own hands, I feel like Idia would get too overwhelmed, his body would force him to throw up, shut down and go into a coma or something lol But once his physical state is back to (more or less) normal, he’ll cope with what he’s done like he always does – by drowning in his thoughts and feelings. And if he feels guilty, by showering the guy’s family with money (anonymously of course), while snarking at himself that this won’t bring their loved one back and that he is an asshole for doing that. In general, Idia is comfortable with the idea of death, and he knows it’s unavoidable, but he doesn’t like facing it… and even more so, causing it. Maybe it’s due to his selfish personal reasons because of his trauma, at least this is what he would say to himself.

Ortho… wouldn’t care at all. He is way too willing to punish people by frying them with lasers, and he seems to have no concept of giving people second chances and human life being precious lol Maybe because he himself isn’t really an alive human being. He also doesn’t think much about the murders; while he is learning, he still lacks empathy in that department. If a horrible accident happens, I feel like he could be affected by it, but other than that – nah.

I know Lilia is a special case, but I feel like he used to enjoy taking the lives of those who deserved it. Unless ch7 proves me wrong, I’ll keep thinking that Lilia used to be rather ruthless when he was younger lol But at some moment the whole thing got too boring, and then he got even older and wiser and changed his stance on this whole thing. Lilia is very comfortable with death, but he also thinks that every life is precious.

Silver also thinks that every life is precious, so even if he would kill someone (it would definitely be an order, he’s not killing anyone otherwise), he would feel horrible about it. Even if it’s a bad person, even if it’s an enemy, Silver would cry (maybe secretly when he is alone), he would feel responsible for the agony their loved ones are feeling, he would take it extremely close to his heart. He is probably the one to not only remember his first kill, but also remember every single person whose life he had to end. What a nice boy lol

Sebek isn’t as nice, but he also isn’t a psychopath. He’s also young, so his first kill is definitely going to leave an impression on him, maybe haunt him and even make him cry, but he would also really dislike feeling these emotions, because they have nothing to do with his duty and he knows better than to weep for someone who deserved to get killed. That being said, over time he could get desensitized to it that he would actually start to enjoy the power he feels when he ends someone’s life. Maybe it’s cope, maybe it’s him becoming more and more cruel, but with every person Sebek kills, his “armor” gets stronger. Oh, and Sebek is also someone who could kill a person on accident by the way, and in that case his reaction would be more emotional and chaotic, because he definitely wasn’t prepared to face the fact that he is a murderer that day lol

Malleus also doesn’t consider every life precious, because he grew up thinking that people (both fae and humans) aren’t really equal to each other. He has this “distance” between himself and the others and this feeling of loneliness, and he is super petty, so I can see him murdering dozens of people in one move without thinking twice about it. He is way too powerful and mighty to the point that his own humanity gets affected by it, and it’s not unusual for him to get the “well serves you right” feeling towards someone who, even if they wronged him, definitely didn’t deserve to meet such a cruel end. That being said, Lilia did his best to put some empathy and open-mindedness in this boy’s head, so it’s very likely that Malleus would still be affected by the fact that he took someone else’s life. But you know how it is, one moment he cries, and then he just doubles down and starts laughing because feeling powerful and just wiping a large group of people from the face of the earth felt as satisfying as popping a bubble wrap.

#replies #headcanons

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